


spend my days locked in a haze

by wildwestwind



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abortion, Age Difference, Barebacking, Drunk Sex, Forced Abortion, Gangbang, Gaslighting, Group Sex, Impregnation, M/M, Mind Control, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwestwind/pseuds/wildwestwind
Summary: It's porn about a teenage trans guy being mind controlled and gaslit by his shitty shitty vampire boyfriend. Absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever. If this is the sort of thing you are into, you will be into it. Please mind the warnings.





	1. Chapter 1

Alex has a shitty memory. 

Things twist and slip away from him: he leaves his homework at home, forgets when a midterm is, is suddenly dragged onto a vacation his parents insist they told him about. He remembers things that he knows didn’t happen; he doesn’t remember things that he know did. The entirety of seventh grade is one long miserable blank.

He thinks he’s had a shitty memory for his entire life. But of course he might have just forgotten being able to remember. 

He doesn’t know when he met Asher. Six months ago, maybe, or a year; he’s not good at time. Days feel like they stretch out into weeks of moaning and writhing and endless, endless pleasure; he blinks and the summer is gone and it’s six weeks into the semester. 

Look, he knows a lot of people would have a problem with him dating Asher. There’s the gay thing, and the trans thing, and even right now there are people who don’t like it when a black guy dates a white person who looks like a girl. They’ve never really used condoms, at least as far as Alex can remember. Asher’s-- he doesn’t remember how old Asher is, he’s bad with numbers, but Asher has his own apartment and his own car and can buy as many drinks as he wants (or rather as many drinks as Alex wants), so he’s at least five years older than Alex. Maybe more. Regardless, every time Asher puts his mouth between Alex’s legs he’s definitely committing a felony in the state of California. 

But things have been going _ great _ever since he started dating Asher. Not just on the dating-Asher front, although Asher is sweet and generous and only wants to make him happy, and also has six-pack abs and a huge dick and can lift him up with one hand. Everything’s going better. Alex’s memory is clear enough to know that. His grades are better than they’ve been since he was seven. He still doesn’t really do homework-- he forgets, and even when he remembers it’s competing with sucking the most beautiful dick he’s ever seen-- but his teacher’s eyes just seem to slide over him every time they check. It’s weird and he’s not going to question it. 

And things are going great with his parents, too. They use his name and his pronouns and call him their son. He doesn’t really have a curfew anymore. When he comes home at five AM with a hangover and come dripping down his legs they let him sleep in and bring him some painkillers the next morning, or rather afternoon. He’s not really sure why they’ve chilled out so much-- maybe it’s how good his grades are, Asher says they’ve finally realized he’s growing up and want him to make his own choices-- but he’s not going to question it.

And Asher is _ amazing_. He’d been aware, with his previous boyfriends, that the sex was unsatisfying, because they thought he was a girl, and because they couldn’t find the clit with a magnifying glass and a labeled map. But he hadn’t realized how great sex could _ be_. The details are often a little vague-- his memory _ is _ bad-- but it feels like he’s _ flying _sometimes, sometimes he comes so many times they bleed into each other and he has no idea where one ends and the next begins, sometimes even the brush of Asher’s hand against his shoulder sends fire through him, sometimes Asher doesn’t let him finish and he wants sex so so badly more than he’s ever wanted anything and then Asher pushes inside him and it’s-- 

Sometimes he wonders if he should see a doctor about the memory thing. But he doesn’t have anyone to talk to about it, not really, he doesn’t have friends and his parents are still kind of useless and Asher says it’s fine. And everything’s going so well, and if it were really a problem he’d have thought about it more than the once.

\--

“Hi,” the man says to Alexa.

Her smile is tight. She wears baggy shirts and sweatpants and oversized hoodies, drowns in her clothes, but even so she knows that ‘hi’ from a strange man is likely to be followed up with some very uncomfortable comments about her ass and how much he’d like to stick things in it. “Hi.”

“Nice day,” the man says cheerfully.

He’s-- very good looking, tall and broad-shouldered with an easy smile and a graceful way of movement, and if Alexa were not so concerned about ass-related comments she’d find him attractive. But as it is he’s older than her and he could pick her up with one hand and he looms, and she knows that stranger danger is mostly a myth but it doesn’t stop her from feeling uncomfortable.

And-- she doesn’t really like the way he’s handsome. He’s too handsome, almost, like someone applied a Snapchat filter to his face in real life; his features are perfectly even, his skin completely unblemished, his eyes just a little too bright. It’s eerie. 

She walks faster.

“Hey,” the man says, his tone of voice a little frustrated, and against her better judgment she looks up and catches his gaze. 

“What is it?”

“You should come back to my place right now,” he says, “and fuck me.”

_ Well _ , she thinks clearly, _ that’s exactly what I should have expected_, and her face hurts from tension and she wants to throw up, wants to be anywhere else, and some lizard part of her is scared that he’s going to hurt her, and _ this is not a very good trip to the coffeeshop_, and--

His eyes are very dark. 

His eyes are dark and deep and it feels like she’s falling and they expand until they take over her entire world and--

She shakes her head as if she’s shaking off a bug from her hair. What was she thinking about? It doesn’t matter. She feels so warm and relaxed and dreamy and she smiles up at the man who is, after all, so very handsome. She wants to sink down on her knees and take him into her mouth, she bets his dick is as well-formed as the rest of him. Images keep running through her mind-- of his face twisted in orgasm, of her pale hands against his perfect chest, of the way he’d look over her and entering her-- and she thinks there’s a reason she wouldn’t usually sleep with someone she met thirty seconds ago but it is clearly a _ very stupid _ reason. 

It occurs to her that she needs to say some words. “Yeah,” she says, and her voice is vaguer than she’d like. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The man lifts her up and cradles her against his chest and she_ likes _ that, she likes that he can lift her like it’s nothing, he could do whatever she wants with her and she _ wants _ him to do whatever he wants with her, and she rests her head against his chest and closes her eyes and lets him take her to his house. She doesn’t have to do anything at all. She can just be. 

It’s hard to think through the haze of how good it feels, but she eventually forms the thought _ you should know people’s names before you sleep with them_. Well, she can fix that, can’t she. She says to him, “what’s your name?”

He laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard. “Asher.” 

Asher. She has never heard a prettier name. “‘m Alexa.”

And now they know each other’s names and she has no reasons at all not to have sex with him, which is good because he takes a hand off her back to fumble with the door and then pins her up against the wall with one hand and kisses her and she wouldn’t be able to stop him if she had a reason to.

Alexa has had boyfriends. She had been kissed before. It was kind of slimy and they used too much tongue and she spent a lot of time waiting for it to be over. She understands now that she had never been kissed, never really truly kissed, because Asher’s mouth is on hers and she feels so safe and so happy and so _ wanted _ and it sends shivers through her entire body and it makes her clit throb and she would be so frustrated except that they are going to have sex, he said, and there is nothing else she wanted more in the world.

He stops kissing her, which is just about the worst thing in the world, but then he presses kisses down her jawline and her neck and then he bites and it hurts, it hurts a lot, she wants to push him away wants it to stop, and then--

And then--

Her body is limp she’s so relaxed she couldn’t stop him if she wanted to but why would she ever want to it feels so good it feels like orgasms like being held like the things they don’t tell you about drugs in DARE because it might make you want to do them it is a single perfect shining moment and it stretches on and on and on--

The moment ends and she whimpers and he says, “Hush, it’s all right.”

With a great effort she forms the words, “So good.”

Asher grins. “I know, but we gotta get your clothes off.”

_ No_, she thinks, even through the haze of pleasure she thinks-- her body is gross, it’s ugly, it bulges in the wrong places, if he touches it she’ll have to acknowledge that it exists at all and she’s a person in a body made of flesh--

Asher pulls away, looks at her seriously. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She nods. It’s hard to think-- she just wants his mouth on her neck again, can’t they go back to that, it was so nice-- maybe when he’s done she can suck him off and then he won’t have to see or touch any other parts of her at all--

“Do you want to keep your clothes on?”

She tries to formulate her objection, comes up with, “I’m ugly.”

He laughs. “Not to me.” He kisses her forehead, then looks deep into her eyes. “Relax. You can trust me. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to make you feel so good. You don’t have to worry about what your body looks like at all, just relax and do what feels good, okay?”

She blinks and-- was she thinking about something? She doesn’t have to think. Thinking is what Asher is for. 

“I should just relax,” she mutters, “do what feels good--”

She’s just going to rest against this wall and close her eyes and let it feel so so good, because it_ does _feel good, everything feels good, how could she object to anything when it all feels so good--

Alexa feels cool air against her skin and a mouth licking at her breast and a hand playing with the other and, and that’s so _ nice_, it sends little jolts of pleasure through her entire body, it’s never felt like that before and she briefly wonders why before she remembers that she doesn’t have to wonder about anything at all, she can just relax and not think and let Asher take care of her and

He bites again. She knows exactly what’s going to happen this time after the pain. This time it’s not overwhelming, it’s these little blips of ecstasy, and underneath them and in between them she feels the exquisite pleasure from him kissing her breasts, and it’s not enough and she wants more but moving her lips to ask is very complicated and she can trust Asher, anyway, he’ll do exactly what’s best for her as long as she trusts him, all she has to do is rest against this wall and let him do whatever he wants with her.

His hands are fumbling at her jeans. She reaches out her hands slowly like they’re moving through Jello, tries to help, but her fingers are clumsy and every time he bites her eyes close and she whimpers and she goes still and she feels warm and tingly and she throws her head back.

And then she’s naked and his hand is on her clit and he starts to suck on her breast in earnest and the ecstasy spreads through her bloodstream and she comes within a second and he holds her through the aftershocks and keeps going and she can hear the sound of moans from very very far away and she doesn’t know where they’re coming from but they’re high and oddly girlish and-- she comes again-- that’s not worth worrying about, is it, not when he keeps touching her and his mouth is on her breast and everything feels so fucking good.

It’s so good, it’s so good, she can’t think, she doesn’t know where one orgasm ends and the next one begins, she’s never felt like this before, she’s drifting under him, she can’t think, it feels like she’s floating, her body is so heavy, she can’t do anything except feel the pleasure spread through her entire body, she can’t think, Asher’s got her, she’s going to have so many bruises tomorrow and that’s good and right she should have bruises Asher should mark her up she should be his she can trust him he’s going to take care of her he’s making her feel so good he’s--

There’s a sad horrible moment where it all stops but she trusts Asher, she does, it will all work out for the best, and then there’s something inside her stretching her and she’s never been this stretched out before and she keeps getting little flashes of what her body is doing-- her mouth is an O, her eyes are closed tight, her back is arching, her hips are thrusting-- and then his mouth goes back to work at her neck and

And it’s so good and it keeps getting better, she has no idea how it keeps getting better, she’s so full she can’t think he’s so solid he’s so safe she can trust him she’s so full he’s taking care of her she’s so relaxed she’s so heavy she can’t think she’s so full she feels so good she can’t think there’s so much it’s so intense Asher is filling her up stretching her out making her feel so good making her his it’s so intense she can’t think she can trust him she’s so relaxed she can’t worry he’s making her feel so good she _ can’t think_\--

He stops biting, licks her neck a bit, and it’s _ awful _ she’s still so full but she wants more, she needs more, she wants to beg she wants to push him close to her but she can trust him and if he stopped biting her neck it must be for a good reason even if it doesn’t make any sense at all and she throws her head back and comes for the fifth or fifteenth time. 

Asher wraps his hand around the back of her head and she opens her eyes and looks into his and he says, “Come for me” and she’s coming and coming and coming and coming and coming and

And Asher stills inside her and she can feel every pulse of his orgasm even through her daze and he pulls out and she stops coming and she’s so happy and so blissful and everything feels so good and her vision is blacking out and nothing has ever felt this right and she thinks she’s going to crumple on the floor.

And Asher-- wonderful Asher, kind Asher, trustworthy Asher-- takes her to a couch and brings her a drink and something to eat and holds her and eventually her hands stop shaking and the room stops spinning and she nuzzles up against him until she can think whole entire sentences.

Alexa has never felt like she was about to pass out from sex before, but on the other hand she’s never had sex like _ that _before. It makes sense, she thinks blearily, that if you come a few dozen times you won’t be that good at thinking after. Maybe you’ll pass out, if the sex is good enough. It seems like the sort of thing that might happen.

“That was amazing,” she says to Asher.

“I do my best.” Asher laughs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done this before,” she says, “with a guy I didn’t know. But it was so good I think I’m going to do it more often.”

“With me,” he says, “or with other strangers?”

“Both,” she says.

She doesn’t remember using a condom with him. But she was pretty out of it, she might not have noticed him putting it on. Surely no one would have totally unprotected sex with someone they’d met five minutes ago, they could be anyone, they could have anything, you don’t know anything about them or how careful they are. And she can trust Asher, he’s safe. Of course he’d use a condom.

“You’ve very responsive,” he says, “I like that.” It sounds like he means something other than how much she comes, but what could he possibly mean? She’s reading too much into things. 

“That’s all you,” she says, “I’ve never had sex like that before.”

He idly plays with her hair. “Not everyone I, uh, fuck responds like that either.”

“I know I’m being stupid,” Alexa says, “I can trust you, but-- we did use a condom, didn’t we?”

“No,” Asher says.

“What?” Alexa freezes with fear. The pit drops out of her stomach. “But-- we don’t even know each other-- I could get pregnant, I could get an STD, I could _ die _ , you can’t--” _ It only takes once_, she thinks in desperation, and _ how can I get an abortion_, and _ I can’t have a baby I’m sixteen I hate babies my body is bad enough without a parasite in it I don’t even know this guy how could I be so _ stupid _ how was I so blissed out I couldn’t _ stop _ him-- _

“Alexa, look at me,” he says firmly. She does. “Nothing bad will happen if you have unprotected sex with me. I’ll keep you safe. You don’t ever have to worry about it. Just put all those thoughts about pregnancy and STDs right out of your mind. You don’t want to use condoms.”

_ That’s right_, she thinks. His eyes are so deep and dark and warm and they make her feel so protected. Asher will keep her safe. She doesn’t have to worry about getting pregnant or getting HIV. And isn’t it so lucky that that’s true? She gets to feel him inside her skin on skin without anything in the way, so intimate, so natural, the way it’s meant to be. She gets to feel him come inside her. They don’t have to stop to put on one of those silly condoms and can you _ imagine _ how awful it would have been to wait, she would have been so squirmy and desperate and probably they’d have ended up fucking without one anyway even if it wasn’t safe. So it’s a good thing she has absolutely nothing to worry about.

“Sorry I was being stupid,” she says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asher says. “Anyone would be freaked out.”

“You’re so patient with me,” she says, “even when I’m being dumb. It’s great.”

“It’s not your fault,” Asher says. He keeps stroking her hair. It’s really nice. He’s quiet for a moment and then says, “can you look me in the eyes again?”

“‘Course,” she says. It’s kind of silly, but she feels like looking in Asher’s eyes makes all her worries drop away. She knows that someone’s eyes can’t do that, but it feels like whenever she looks in his eyes she relaxes and feels so good and she sees how dumb all her objections are, and then she can make the great decisions that led to her sitting here in his lap, blissful and post-coital.

He gazes into her eyes deeply and says, “Tell me about yourself.”

And she’s about to shrug her head and say that she’s a boring person, the way she always does, but her mouth opens and words tumble out. She talks about the poetry she likes and her feelings about her parents and how stupid she feels in her classes and how much she loves making art and her favorite books; she talks about being a kid and her ex-boyfriends and how lonely she is sometimes and the fanfiction she wrote and every single one of her fetishes; she talks about how sad she is sometimes and how her body just feels _ wrong _ and how she wishes she could stop being a girl and maybe be something else, like a cloud of fireflies. And Asher is so kind and he’s such a good listener and she can trust him, she can say everything she’s ever thought, she can tell him everything and it will be all right, she just has to keep looking into those big brown eyes and she knows that everything will be okay. 

“You’re a boy,” he says, staring into her eyes, and Alex smiles. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re a boy,” Asher repeats, “and I’m your boyfriend Asher, and I love you.”

“You do,” Alex says, and throws his arms around Asher. “I love you so much. I’m so happy we’re dating.”

\--

Alex remembers the important things.

So he doesn’t remember how they met and he has to say something like “oh, we met in a bookstore” every time it comes up and hope they don’t ask too many questions. But he remembers the first thing that drew him to Asher, the look in his soft big brown eyes, the one that makes you feel like everything will be okay. Even right now, looking in Asher’s eyes, even when Asher doesn’t say anything, makes him feel safe.

So he doesn’t remember how exactly they got to the beach or everything they did there or what precise sex acts they did. (Sometimes he thinks the sex is so good it causes him orgasm-induced amnesia.) But he remembers swimming together and how Asher can carry him without even trying and snuggling with Asher on the blanket and how sex on the beach is incredible, so romantic, better than anyone says (and what they say is amazing enough).

So he doesn’t remember standing in line at Disneyland. Who wants to remember standing in line at Disneyland? He remembers riding all the rides and taking goofy pictures and being terrified by Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and Asher getting him a shirt with his favorite princess on it. He remembers making out on It’s A Small World and then going back on it and sucking dick on It’s A Small World. The important things stay.

It’s just-- sometimes the things he forgets are a little awkward.

Like, he remembers that he doesn’t have to worry about condoms or birth control with Asher, and thank God for that. But he doesn’t remember why. Did Asher get a vasectomy? Is Asher infertile? Maybe he’s on some new kind of male birth control? But they don’t have to worry about STDs either. Did he get tested? Alex doesn’t remember seeing his test results but he must have seen them, Asher’s responsible like that. Maybe he’s on some kind of medicine that keeps him safe from getting sick. He vaguely remembers something like that, at least for HIV, but whenever he tries to read about it, it just falls out of his head. 

He knows that Asher must have a job. Adults have jobs, and Asher always has money for everything-- a nice apartment and books and a fast car and eating out and as many little presents as Alex wants. But Asher doesn’t ever seem to work. He always has free time for Alex. Maybe he’s a programmer? Programmers work weird hours. Anyway, he’s sure Asher has told him, he just forgot, and it’s awkward to ask. He doesn’t think about it. It’ll come up eventually and then he’ll remember. It’s not like it really matters where Asher’s money comes from. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t have to hear about work all day.

He’s just glad Asher never asked about it. What if he had to admit not knowing? That would really fucking suck. 

And there are cuts on his body all the time. He’s always been clumsy, always had bruises he didn’t know where they came from-- but he never had cuts before, and some of them were on weird places like his neck. He’s not sure how you can accidentally cut your neck, even if you’re clumsy. But that’s such an embarrassing question to ask, and it’s not like any of them are bad injuries. In fact it’s great. They’re so sensitive when Asher licks them that he can come just from someone licking his neck. So he has nothing to be concerned about. 

\--

Alex is going to his first party with Asher’s friends. 

He spends probably too much time picking out his clothes, definitely too much time doing his hair and makeup. He tells his parents he’s going to a friend's house for a party; they tell him that his curfew is midnight and remember that if he misses his curfew he’s going to get the data turned off on his phone. He doesn’t worry about it. Asher will take care of him and make sure he’s back in time. 

He does worry about, well, Asher’s friends. Asher might tell him he’s so interesting, so mature, so grown-up, but he’s still sixteen. He knows Asher wouldn’t care what his friends think of him but he doesn’t want Asher’s friends to think of him as some idiot kid. He’s never been to a party like this before; he doesn’t know what you talk about, how to act cool.

He really, really wants to be cool. 

Asher and Alex walk to the party, or rather Asher carries him to the party. It must be close to their house because it feels like it only takes a few minutes to get there, but it’s not an area Alex recognizes at all; it seems to be in an abandoned warehouse. He doesn’t remember a warehouse district existing near his house, but that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s forgotten about, or even the weirdest thing he’s forgotten about this week.

Alex can talk to Asher about anything, he knows. But he doesn’t want to admit how scared he is, doesn’t want Asher to know that he doesn’t feel interesting or cool or mature and actually feels like a scared little child. Asher might judge him. Still, he glances sidelong into Asher’s eyes as they walk to the front entrance. 

The bouncer nods at Asher, doesn’t card him or Alex, lets them in. Alex isn’t sure whether he’s relieved not to be carded.

Inside, it’s dark, but Alex can still make out that everyone in the party is a man, cis or far along in their transitions.

Along one wall is a bar where people are getting drinks; along the others are scattered chairs and sofas. In the center, people are dancing to pulse-pounding techno, too loud to talk, almost too loud to think. He doesn’t really like the music, but at least it looks like people won’t be able to judge him for how immature he is, because they won’t be able to hear anything he says at all.

About a quarter of the people there are unearthily pretty, like Asher; the rest are still all beautiful. He’s never been around this many shirtless men with well-muscled torsos in his life. He tugs at his binder self-consciously; he’s aware of his feminine face, the way his fat is distributed, how young he must look, how little he passes.

Asher laughs when he sees Alex look. “It’s okay to stare.”

People are pairing off, in twos and threes. Some of them are kissing but many more of them are being bitten, mouths on their necks and shoulders and chests. That makes sense though. Alex kinks on being bitten a lot; it makes sense that the people here would kink on it too. It’s a normal sex thing.

He wonders if someone’s going to-- but no. He’s here to dance and cuddle his boyfriend and kiss him and look at all the beautiful beautiful men, that’s all. Nothing more.

They’re all really really handsome. He can feel himself starting to get turned on, watching all those men kiss each other and touch each other and bite, and decides he’ll ask Asher if they can leave a little early so he can get fucked before curfew. 

Asher, who had gone to the bar in the back while he was looking, hands him a glass of something. It smells fruity. “Drink this, it’ll help you relax.”

Alex takes a cautious sip. It tastes kind of bitter, underneath the sweet. “Is it… alcoholic?”

Asher laughs. “Everything here is alcoholic.”

Oh. Alex’s never had alcohol before. He holds the glass, doesn’t take another sip, says, “I’m sixteen.” 

Asher gestures. “Does anyone here look like they care?”

“No,” Alex says cautiously. He’s not sure if he wants to-- he’s never been drunk before, he’s not sure he wants his first time to be surrounded by strangers, he’s heard things about getting drunk at parties, he doesn’t want to make a bad decision or get raped or-- but Asher is looking at him and he doesn’t want Asher to think he’s not ready for parties like this and he’s safe, anyway, Asher’s here, Asher will take care of him. There’s nothing to worry about. 

“Let’s sit down,” Asher says, and he finds a chair and pulls Alex into his lap, and Alex rests his head against Asher’s chest and takes long sips of his drink.

(_Asher’s cold_, Alex thinks, and _ I can’t hear his heartbeat_, and then the thoughts blink away.)

The drink stays kind of bitter, but Alex finds he doesn’t mind so much as he gets closer to finishing, and it does relax him. He feels warm and glowy and happy, and Asher is holding him, and he’s not sure at all what he was anxious about before. Asher loves him. Asher’s friends are going to love him too. 

He looks down, notices the drink is finished, kind of wants another one. 

Asher picks him up. “Let’s dance.”

Alex presses his head into Asher’s shoulder, eyes closed, and laughs. “I don’t know if I’m drunk enough for that yet.” He’s not sure when he decided to get drunk but he’s so warm and happy and giggly and why not? It’s a party. He’s having fun.

“Try dancing,” Asher says, “for me?”

“All right,” Alex says, and Asher carries him to the dance floor and tosses him in the air and catches him and Alex is giggling and, all right, maybe dancing is not all that bad.

Alex still does not like techno but he has to admit it’s fun to dance to. Asher’s good at dancing, graceful and precise and so so strong, and he can make even Alex’s clumsy movements feel in tune with the music. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s Asher, maybe it’s the shirtless men, but he likes this a lot more than Homecoming or junior prom.

A guy starts dancing with them and Asher smiles at them and, okay, Alex can dance with someone else, that’s cool. It’s a little bit an excuse to touch the other man-- okay, it’s a lot an excuse to touch the other man, who’s built like an Olympic gymnast and has a smile that could stop your heart-- but the music is playing and the guy is happy and Asher is happy and Alex is so so happy and there’s nothing at all to worry about. 

Song bleeds into song, all techno sounds the same so he doesn’t know when one song ends and the next song begins, and there are so many men and he can touch them as much as he wants, and he knows his feet are going to hurt tomorrow but he doesn’t care. He doesn't care about much of anything, really. 

He’s lost Asher somewhere in the crowd, and he was trying to find Asher but he got distracted by touching the ass of this absolutely gorgeous man with electric-blue hair and body glitter, and the man is hard because Alex made him hard because he can do that and he feels so _ hot_, and then the man looks into his eyes and says “Kiss me.”

Oh. 

Yeah.

That seems like a good idea.

And they’re out of the crowd and the guy is pressing him against the wall and kissing him and, god, it’s so nice, Alex is squirming and desperate and he knows there’s something he was supposed to be doing and then the man bites his lip and he remembers that of course he was supposed to be kissing this man, that’s what it was, he’s glad he remembered.

The man reaches up Alex’s shirt, finds his binder, looks into his eyes. “Take this off.”

_ I hate the way my breasts look without a binder_, he thinks, but his hands are already moving to unzip the front and drop it on the floor. It’s hot in here, he thinks vaguely. He doesn’t need the extra layer. And it’s so hard to breathe in the binder while he’s dancing, it makes more sense to take it off.

The guy hikes up Alex’s shirt and he’s about to object-- he doesn’t even really like Asher’s mouth on his breasts when he’s not too blissed out to notice, and he definitely doesn’t want to show off his tits here, in front of all these guys-- and then the guy bites down and everything is ecstasy.

He-- he didn’t know that a guy other than Asher could make him feel like this-- how could he ever say no to this, how could he say no to something that makes him feel this good-- he writhes against the wall, if he had a dick it would be so so hard right now, he doesn’t know what’s happening in his body and it doesn’t matter because he’s floating soaring flying--

After a small eternity the bliss stops. Alex whimpers in protest and pushes his breasts out at the guy, but he disappears into the crowd. Alex lets his shirt fall, rests against the wall for a moment, and tries to think. He was going to do something before he got distracted by the guy, he knew. Find Asher?

But it’s not like it’s urgent, they have plenty of time, and it’s fun to fool around with guys. He wasn’t going to have sex but letting a guy kiss him and lick his neck and play with his tits isn’t sex. It’s like zeroth base or something. Basically the same thing they were doing while they were dancing. And Asher won’t mind if he just has a little bit of innocent fun. 

Alex goes back into the press of bodies to look for Asher but doesn’t mind too too much when a pair of hands pull him into a dark corner instead. 

There’s a good reason, he thinks some time later, that he isn’t wearing a shirt. He knows there’s a good reason. It’s just too loud to think. There’s a lot of other shirtless guys here and no one minds that he’s trans and he’s just fitting in at the party, probably. He’s not some kid who’s ashamed of his body and they’re going to know that. He’s exactly like everyone else here--

A little while after that, he knows exactly when he took his pants off and why, it’s just not coming to mind right now. There’s some hands on his breasts while they’re dancing and a hard dick pressing into his ass and it’s making it a bit hard to think in complete sentences. Maybe something spilled on it? Or it was too sweaty to wear his pants while dancing? Maybe Asher was going to use his pants for something. Or-- the guy starts to rub between Alex’s legs and it’s not enough but it’s so tantalizing-- or maybe someone was missing their pants and he helped them out-- oh god he’s so _ wet _\--

There is definitely, he thinks, a really really good reason that he doesn’t have any of his clothes. He knows exactly where all his clothes are probably, if he could just get a chance to think about it. He’s not the kind of person who gets so wasted off one drink that he strips naked. It’s just-- oh god he needs a cock in his hands in his mouth in his cunt, he needs someone to touch his clit-- adult parties are such a_ tease _ \-- he wants to reach down between his legs and touch himself but he’s aware enough to know that’s socially inappropriate-- he’s going to concentrate, he’s not going to dance or fool around or get pulled into any dark corners, he’s going to go find Asher and Asher’s going to find his clothes and they’re going to go fuck and he’s going to come so many times, he just has to _ focus_. 

He catches the eye of a redhaired guy, one of the unearthily pretty ones. Alex is _ definitely _ going to find Asher, just as soon as he gets that guy to put his mouth on Alex’s shoulder and get him _ really _ worked up-- won’t Asher be happy, Alex’ll get so horny that he’ll probably come as soon as Asher slips inside him-- it’s all for Asher, really, if he thinks about it--

Alex has a dick in his throat and his nose in someone’s pubes.

He pulls off, jerks off the guy’s dick with his hand to buy himself some time, and looks up. It’s electric-blue-hair body-glitter guy, who could not be identified from his pubes, which are an ordinary brown color and completely free of glitter. 

Alex licks the head and keeps working the dick with his hands. He’s never really sucked off anyone he wasn't dating before, and certainly not anyone whose name he didn’t know. The guy’s very good-looking and the weight of his cock in Alex’s mouth is so good-- Alex takes more of the dick into his mouth, swirls his tongue the way Asher likes-- and Alex keeps squirming on the ground from how horny he is and it’s so easy to just keep going and let muscle memory move him and the guy’s cock is so beautiful.

The problem is that he doesn’t really remember deciding to give this guy a blowjob. And-- obviously that’s not why Alex took his clothes off, he had a good reason to take his clothes off, they were so hot and hard to dance in and he wanted to be cool and he thinks he remembers something spilled-- but he did wind up on his knees sucking a stranger’s dick and there’s no way he can say that’s because of how hot it is in here. (The guy puts his hand on Alex’s hair and pulls; Alex looks up at him with doe eyes and keeps sucking.) It’s probably the alcohol, he’s tiny and female-bodied and he hasn’t ever gotten drunk before, but he doesn’t want to admit that he’s such a lightweight, he wants to be cool, able to keep up (the guy starts fucking Alex’s throat and he moans and opens his mouth up and gives thanks for his lack of a gag reflex) he doesn’t want to be the person who’s sucking a stranger’s dick after one drink.

They must have had some sort of conversation-- Alex thinks he remembers the guy pulling him aside and saying “suck my dick” but you don’t just say that to a total stranger, right, you have to establish a context-- but god that sounds like an awkward conversation. “Sorry, I have a terrible memory, I forgot who you fucking are.” And he’d have to admit to being a lightweight, a kid who hasn’t ever been to a party like this before (he can hear the guy’s moans over the music and he feels so powerful to know that he’s making someone else feel like that, it sends electricity to his clit) and got too drunk and made bad choices. A fucking made-for-TV movie cliche. 

But (the guy’s hands are on Alex’s head and he's fucking Alex's throat like he’s a sex toy and all Alex has to do is give in and be moved and feel the way the velvety skin slides against his lips) they probably talked and then Alex did decide to fuck him, didn’t he? Alex has a shitty memory but that doesn’t mean the conversation didn’t _ happen_. It doesn’t matter exactly what he said to some guy he’s never going to see again. Alex thought he wasn’t going to fuck around at the party but he changed his mind once he loosened up a bit, that’s a thing that happens sometimes. It’s not like Asher’s going to be upset, Asher would be happy he’s having a good time. It’s not that he’s some dumb drunk kid getting taken advantage of, he’s just a slut getting throatfucked by an absolutely beautiful man and having the time of his life, and he should stop worrying and stop thinking and just enjoy it.

When the man is close, he pulls out of Alex’s mouth and jerks himself off and Alex stares up at him eagerly and he finishes all over Alex’s face. Alex takes a drop of it on his finger, licks it, and savors the taste; he lets the rest dry like an advertisement and stands up to find his next partner. 

It doesn’t take long to find someone else unearthily pretty to push him up against a wall and put their mouth on his neck without any preliminaries and it feels blissful like it always does and he can sink into it and he doesn’t have to think and-- 

Alex stumbles away from a guy. Alex didn’t give him a blowjob and he didn’t touch Alex’s clit; Alex came, oh, four or five times from having his neck bitten, but they didn’t have sex. So it’s fine, probably, he can make decisions, it’s not like he’s sleeping with everyone here, he’s not being taken advantage of, he’s making his own choices (and they’re such _ good _ choices, he feels amazing, he’s never felt this good in his _ life _).

Alex thinks about dancing, tries to move with the music, and immediately falls down. He must be really wasted, he thinks. But he doesn’t remember having more than one drink and you can’t get stumbling drunk off one drink even if you’re a lightweight (and he’s not). On the other hand, he was able to dance before, this is new. Maybe he had more than one drink? His memory is bad and everything is blending together and it would make sense if people bought him drinks, right, you buy someone drinks before you fuck them, he remembers jokes about that from some comedy. So he’s really drunk, is all. And it’s fine, he decided to, he’s mature and he can make this kind of decision responsibly and he feels so happy. If he weren’t being responsible he wouldn’t be so happy.

It might be kind of late, he thinks vaguely. All the techno sounds the same. As far as he can tell he’s been listening to the same song for the past two hours. It makes the party seem timeless. But it’s not really, time is passing. And it would probably take a while to get so wasted and make out with-- ten guys? Ten sounds about right, maybe fifteen or twenty-- and sleep with two (?). But he doesn’t have to worry about it. He got started right as soon as the party started and he didn’t dance _ that _ long. And Asher knows when his curfew is and is keeping an eye on the time. He doesn’t have to worry about anything. Asher will find him when it’s time to go and maybe they’ll be a little late but that’s fine, his parents won’t be that mad. Even if he wanted to go find a clock, he’d probably just get pulled into a corner by guys instead. Better to let Asher take care of it.

A guy helps him stand up and Alex smiles at him and the guy takes it as the invitation that it is and pushes Alex back on the couch and _ this _ Alex can do without any motor skills at all-- 

Oh god it feels so good to have a dick inside him, he’s needed this all night, and the guy can hold him up against the wall with one hand and he’s so stretched out and full. He’s come so many times that every part of his cunt is sensitive, he can feel every inch of the guy’s dick, and the guy’s hands are holding him close and he feels so safe and loved and wanted and desired and cool and _ grown-up_.

He thinks blearily that they definitely aren’t using a condom and there was a reason he was supposed to object to that especially from a stranger (oh god it’s so good it’s so intense he reaches between his legs and starts to touch his clit) but he can’t think through exactly what the reasons are. The reasons are so far away and the cock is right here (the guy stills inside him and Alex whimpers in protest, tries to fuck himself onto the guy’s cock, listens to him laugh). He definitely doesn’t want to stop long enough to find a condom if they even have any at the party at all, he hasn’t seen any, and if he decided to use a condom and there weren’t any then he wouldn’t get to be fucked at all (he’s going to come he’s going to come oh god right there so good, he can’t talk but he sure can make encouraging noises) and that would be the worst thing in the world. This guy is so sweet and so kind and so nice to Alex and Alex wants to be nice back, to return the favor by letting the guy come inside him and that’s (the guy’s face is twisted with pleasure and Alex is making him feel like that, a hot guy utterly lost because of _ him_) the sweetest favor Alex has ever done. It feels so nice, how could it be bad if it feels so _ nice_, the whatever it is can’t be as important as this guy shuddering inside him filling him up making him his-- And then the guy bites down on his neck and Alex stops thinking anything at all--

There’s a mouth on his clit and it’s sucking and being eaten out has never felt like this before, being eaten out when he’s drunk is the best fucking feeling in the world, it feels like one long continuous earthshattering orgasm and all he has to do is lie back and enjoy--

He’s lying on a couch drinking something sweet and a guy is licking his nipples and when the drink finishes he gets another one without having to do anything--

Alex has slept with three guys. Maybe four? Or six? Anyway, he’s slept with a couple of guys and now he’s sitting on a couch not fucking anyone. He remembers a little while ago he felt really incredibly good and now it’s wearing off and he wants to feel like that again, more than he wants anything in the world, he wants to be blissed out floating flying heavy ecstatic, and he’d maybe be worried about this if it were possible to think about anything except how much he _ wants_.

There’s a guy near him on the couch, one of the weirdly pretty ones. Alex taps him on the shoulder and says, “I’ll fuck you if you buy me a drink.” 

This is called problem-solving. He is very proud of himself. 

The guy blinks. “Buy you a… drink?”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I used to feel really really good and now I only feel kinda good and I want to feel really really good again.”

The guy says something about ‘Sunnydale’ that it’s hard to hear over the music. Alex doesn’t see what Buffy the Vampire Slayer has to do with anything. Then the guy says, “I can make you feel really really good if you fuck me after, yeah.”

Alex gets halfway through saying “thank you” when the guy pushes him to the couch and then Alex says “drink first, sex second.” If they make out he’s going to get so turned on he’s going fuck him anyway and forget about the drink. He’s not a dumb drunk kid, he knows exactly what he wants, he’s so good at advocating for himself even when he’s so wet and needs to be fucked so badly. 

Then the guy’s teeth sink into his shoulder and, oh god, this is what he wanted all along, it just keeps getting better and better, the first time it was bliss but this time it’s transcendent. He feels completely loved and wanted, like everything in the world is okay and nothing has ever really hurt, and as for his body his senses are overloaded when he even tries to process what it feels like. This is what it must be like to touch the face of God--

Alex has finally found Asher. He’s sitting on a seat with a guy in his lap; Asher’s mouth is on his neck and Asher is playing idly with the guy’s dick. Alex might be jealous but it would be hypocritical given the givens, and anyway he doesn’t think he could feel unhappy right now if he tried. 

Asher smiles at him and pulls Alex into his lap; the guy whose neck he was biting makes a grumpy noise. “I can see you’re enjoying the party.”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I’m _ soooooo _ drunk.”

“I can tell.” Asher laughs. “Still thirsty?” 

“Always,” Alex says, and someone brings him another drink, the sweet kind he really likes. Between sips he kisses the other guy in Asher’s lap, shallow and careful, mostly for Asher’s reaction. 

Alex eventually finishes the drink and begins to kiss the other guy in earnest. His hard dick is pressed in between them and Alex could just adjust a little bit and it’d be inside him and wouldn’t that be nice, fucking another guy in Asher’s lap, wouldn’t that make Asher so happy.

“Ah,” Asher says, “I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Why?” Alex says. “I’ve been doing it with. So many guys. Soooooo many.” He makes a broad loose gesture to indicate the entire room.

Asher kisses him, and then presses their faces together and says, “Because you don’t want to.”

That’s right, Alex thinks. He only wants to have sex with that guy to show off for Asher, not because he really wants to have sex with him. Alex almost made a bad decision but Asher looked out for him because Asher is such a good boyfriend. And now he doesn’t have to worry about anything at all, Asher will take care of him and make sure he doesn’t make any bad choices, he can just relax and-- Asher says something to the guy and he slips out of the chair and starts to lick Alex’s cunt and Asher plays with Alex’s breasts and, and this is what Alex wanted, it’s so good that he gets everything he wants--

He’s so empty and so desperate and no one is with him, the room is spinning too much to try to move, he curls up and whimpers and tries not to cry and puts his hand between his legs to finger himself but his orgasms are sad and weak and he needs--

There’s a mouth on his thigh and a mouth on his shoulder and, and one is good but two is extraordinary, there are waves of warmth all through his body, he didn’t know he was capable of feeling this much sensation, that he could feel this much enjoyment, he is floating, everything around him is melting, everything is good and nothing matters--

Alex’s knees buckle and he’s kneeling with a wide loose smile on the floor and it doesn’t matter, really, that he can’t stand up, his mouth can be used by anyone who comes by (they’re all so beautiful, he wants all of them to use his mouth) and every so often he’ll make one of them so happy that they’ll decide they want to make him happy too and everything is so good--

Strong familiar arms carry him to a couch and lay him out so he’s accessible, and sometimes there’s a cock in his cunt and sometimes there’s a cock in his mouth and sometimes there are mouths on his thighs on his back on his arms on his shoulders and sometimes someone gives him something to drink and he sucks at the straw the way he sucks at a dick and always, always there’s Asher’s hands stroking his hair and Asher’s voice saying soothing words the meaning of which he can’t understand but the tone of which is comforting. He can’t move at all but why would he ever want to, everything that happens to him is so good, he is loved and wanted and desired, everything is okay, nothing bad could ever ever happen, he’s just going to lie here and let everything fade away.

His vision keeps blacking out. It’s sort of strange, but wondering about things takes energy, and he doesn’t have any energy. His whole body is so heavy. It’s like the pleasure itself is weighting him down, like it’s so intense that it has become a physical object that he can’t budge and doesn’t want to.

He’s so _ safe _.

Someone unzips their pants and reveals their dick and-- this is a very difficult athletic problem and Alex has to try really hard and he doesn’t think he’d be able to do it for anything other than a hard dick-- but he manages to reach out and wrap his hand around it, and then Asher notices and puts his hand over Alex’s and helps him stroke, and Alex closes his eyes. There isn’t any need to worry about anything. Asher is taking care of him.

Some time later, Asher says, “Party’s over.”

Alex notices that there are not any cocks or mouths, and he doesn’t really want there to be. He still feels good, but he’s so so tired. He wants to curl up in Asher’s arms and sleep for a week.

“Time’ssssss it,” he slurs.

Asher doesn’t say anything, just picks him up and carries him. That isn’t quite as good as falling asleep on Asher but the movement is soothing and Alex knows he’ll be in bed soon. 

When they leave the warehouse, Alex notices that the sky is pink, and even in his current state he’s able to realize that if the sky is pink it is much much later than midnight. He’s so tired that he can’t really panic but he manages to form his lips to say “curfew?” and even put a little agitation into it.

Asher stops, repositions Alex so Alex can see his face, and says, “Go to sleep.”

Oh he’s-- he’s so tired-- he was tired before but now he can’t help but drift away-- what was he thinking about-- not important-- too sleepy to think-- he’s so tired-- his body is so heavy-- the movement of Asher walking is like being rocked-- his eyes close once, twice, and then it’s dark.

\--

In the morning, or rather the afternoon, when Alex wakes up, he’s dizzy and lightheaded and nauseous and _ incredibly _ thirsty and he’s sweating and he has a headache.

“Fuuuuuuuck.”

Asher notices Alex is awake and brings him three glasses of water and some painkillers and Alex downs the first glass in ten seconds and the second glass in twenty and takes long enough with the third that he manages to take the painkillers with it, and only then feels human enough that he can notice that he’s in Asher’s bedroom which he is _ definitely not supposed to be in. _

He is going to be in so much trouble. 

Okay, so, last night was great, that much he can remember from the hazy drunken memories. But he fucked more guys than he can remember and he definitely didn’t use a condom with any of them and he’s not on anything because Asher is safe but those guys aren’t necessarily safe, and the clock says it’s 3pm and he was supposed to get back at _ midnight _ and his parents are going to _ kill him_, and a lot of those memories are _ much more embarrassing _ in retrospect than they were at the time. 

It’s stupid, there are so many more important things to be worried about, he could get knocked up, he’s going to be grounded for life, but Alex just keeps replaying all of last night’s memories from Asher’s point of view. He went to a party and he was supposed to have one drink to loosen up and then dance and talk to people, and instead he got _ absolutely fucking trashed _ and took off all his clothes (aaarrrgh) and fucked half the guys there and didn’t get to make any sort of interesting conversation because his mouth was full the entire time. Alex doesn’t remember but probably Asher had to hold his hair back while he _ puked _ , that’s not attractive. He shouldn’t be thinking _ Asher is never going to invite me to a party again_, not with everything else he has to worry about, but he is. He’s just some dumb teenager who can’t control himself and got in trouble and now Asher knows.

And he doesn’t-- he made some decisions last night, he remembers offering to fuck someone without a condom for a drink (that makes him want to tear his hair out with embarrassment) and reaching out to give someone a handjob while he was so drunk he was almost passing out (that one’s even worse), but… mostly stuff _ happened _ . He didn’t mean to, his clothes were just suddenly missing or there was a cock in his mouth or someone was coming inside him or he was suddenly drunk, and he doesn’t really remember… making choices. And that’s worst of all. It makes him feel like a stupid kid who was taken advantage of and there are probably lots of feelings he should have about that but the feeling he’s having is _ Asher won’t think I’m cool anymore_.

“Toast and a banana,” Asher says. “Good to keep things down after a hangover. And take this iron, it’ll make you feel better.”

At least Asher isn’t pissed at him for getting drunk and cheating on him. Alex swallows the iron and forces himself to have one bite of the banana.

“We should probably talk to my parents,” Alex says weakly, “before they call missing persons. Although I guess I’m not going to get into more trouble if we wait.” 

Asher tips Alex’s chin up and looks into his eyes. “Your parents know you’re growing up,” Alex says. “Your parents know you’re almost an adult. Your parents don’t care if you’re going to parties and getting drunk and fucking guys because they know you’re responsible and you can make your own choices. Your parents are fine with me because they know I’m a good boyfriend for you. Your parents aren’t going to stop you from doing anything you want to do ever again.” He adds, almost absently, “And your parents won’t ever misgender you ever again.”

Alex blinks and-- there was something he was thinking about, what was he thinking about. It’s probably the hangover, his head is pounding so much it’s lucky that he can think two word thoughts. He’ll remember it soon enough.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” he says. He takes a bite of toast.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asher says.

“Do you have Plan B?” Alex says, trying to sound cool, like getting drunk and having unprotected sex with a dozen strangers is a thing that happens to him all the time and was a totally intentional decision that he definitely made.

Asher turns his head again to look in his eyes. “Nothing bad will happen to you because you had sex, as long as I’m there,” Asher says. “You can have sex with anyone you want to and you won’t get pregnant or get sick or get arrested or get in trouble with your parents or have social drama or any other negative consequence, as long as I’m there. You don’t have to use condoms if you don’t want to. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything while you have me to take care of you. All you have to do is have fun and enjoy yourself and fuck whoever you want as much as you want.”

“Oh,” Alex says. Even through his hangover he feels so warm and safe and happy. He cuddles up onto Asher’s shoulder. “Sorry I was anxious. I know I can trust you to take care of me and I don’t want to make you think I don’t trust you, of course I do, I just...”

“I love you so much,” Asher says, “and I’ll always keep you safe. You can be as wild as you want.” He wraps a finger around Alex’s hair. “And you want to be really wild.”

Alex closes his eyes. He feels so peaceful. “I do?”

Asher laughs. “I mean. I saw you last night.”

Alex doesn’t know how to put his anxieties into words, and he knows that if he does Asher will just whisk them away. “I got really wasted,” Alex says, “and fucked a bunch of strangers and-- I didn’t want to get drunk at all or have sex with anyone other than you. Before.”

“It’s normal to change your mind once you get there,” Asher says soothingly. “How could you know what you liked before you had any experience?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m-- some easy kid who can’t control himself and makes bad choices.”

“You had a good time, didn’t you?” Asher says.

Alex’s memories aren’t very clear but he remembers that. He had a great time. He came so many times and he wanted cock so much and-- no one ever said getting drunk felt like_ that_\--

“I had fun,” Alex says, sort of dreamily. “I enjoyed myself. I fucked whoever I wanted as much as I wanted.”

“Yeah.” Alex can tell Asher is smiling from his voice. “You’re just a slut.”

That… makes sense. Sluts have sex with lots and lots of people and they think it’s really fun. And he’s not-- stupid or exploited or taken advantage of or a kid, he can make his own choices, and he decided of his own free will to get drunk and fuck more guys than he can remember. And it was such a good choice. He shivers remembering the way some of those mouths felt on him. He just… likes sex a lot, that’s all. Why wouldn’t he have sex with everyone who wants to have sex with him, when it feels like_ that_?

“I’m a slut,” Alex says, more confidently. 

“My hot little slut,” Asher says. “Do you want to go to a party again?”

_ So many mouths all over his body making him feel_\-- “Yes,” Alex says immediately.

“In a few weeks,” Asher says. “It’s not good to be a blood doll more often than once every three weeks or so.”

That… makes sense. Alex remembers hearing about how binge drinking is bad for you, and so he should space it out. He’s glad Asher is here to watch out for him. 

“You should probably sleep more,” Asher says, “last night was really tiring.”

“I’m lucky my parents are so chill with this,” Alex says as he closes his eyes. “Lots of people’s parents would be pissed if they spent the weekend at their boyfriend’s.” He adds, dreamily, “it’s because you’re so good for me. My parents can tell.”

“Yeah,” Asher says, petting his hair. “It’s because I’m so good for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first week after the party Alex is so tired. 

It’s a bone-deep tiredness. It feels like all his thoughts are moving through grey sludge. Even the thought of moving exhausts him. He tries to go to school on Monday, thinking that he sleeps in class a lot anyway so even if he winds up taking a nap it won’t be a big deal. None of the words the teacher is saying make any sense and it’s so hard to keep his eyes open, they feel so heavy, and he closes them for just a second, just to rest a little bit, and when he opens them up it’s third period and he doesn’t recognize anyone in the classroom.

He should-- he should do something about this, go to his next class, go to the nurse’s office maybe, go home-- but he’s so tired and moving is so hard and if he just puts his head on the table for a minute maybe he’ll have the strength to move and the next thing he knows the classroom is empty and Asher is shaking him. 

“School’s over,” Asher says.

“Oh,” Alex says. He would probably have another opinion about that but he’s so tired.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to class tomorrow,” Asher says, “I’m worried about you.” 

Alex should have some kind of thought about that-- grades or something? Truancy? His parents?-- but mostly what he thinks is that staying home from school sounds like it involves a commendable amount of not moving. 

Asher picks Alex up and he’s (_cold_) so soft and nice to cuddle against and Alex closes his eyes and falls asleep again and when he wakes up he’s so warm and he’s covered with a soft blanket and Asher is there and he snuggles up next to Asher and goes back to sleep.

When he next wakes up, it’s dinnertime and he can think at all. While he eats he wonders a little bit about how tired he is. But he sleeps through class a lot anyway, and… maybe it’s like jet lag? He did stay up really late on Saturday night. So it makes sense his sleep schedule is out of whack. And worrying about it takes energy, anyway, and Alex doesn’t want to do anything that requires energy.

After dinner he calls his mom.

“I’m sick,” he says. “I’m going to skip school tomorrow, see if I can get better.” He has the flash of the thought that his parents might worry that he’s faking in order to get out of school-- but of course they wouldn’t, his parents are great, they let him do whatever he wants, why would he think that?

“Of course,” his mom says. Her voice sounds oddly distant. “It’s probably the party.”

Oh shit. If he misses school because he got wasted his parents are never going to let him go again. “No,” Alex says, “I came down with a cold or--”

“It’s okay,” his mom says. “Staying out late makes you tired. Nothing to worry about. Take off as much time as you need.”

“You don’t mind that I’m missing school?”

“Of course not,” his mom says. “Everyone needs to have some fun once in a while. It’s so important for you to get to meet other queer guys your age.” It sounds like she’s reciting from a script. “I trust you to decide how to prioritize school and your social life. I’m not going to worry about whatever you decide.”

Alex grins. “You’re the best mom ever.” He’s so lucky. How many moms would be so supportive of their trans son missing school because he got rawed by a dozen guys? It’s like PFLAG on steroids.

“You can stay at Asher’s house if you want,” his mom says. “We’ll be away all day. It’ll be nice for you to have some company.”

Alex blinks. He didn’t think that-- but why wouldn’t he, his parents are amazing, of course they’ll let him hang out with Asher. “Awesome.”

“See you, sweetie.”

The next few days blend into each other. Alex sleeps a lot. He dreams of being tied up, of faceless bodies fucking his mouth and his ass and his cunt, of being touched while he can’t move. When he wakes up, there’s usually come dripping down his thighs. It could be Asher’s, or it could be-- one of Asher’s friends-- and then he thinks about being so tired that he’s passed out and being used by someone Asher knows, a stranger whose face or name he doesn’t know, being totally helpless, unable to resist anything that’s happening to him, and his hand sneaks between his legs. 

By Saturday, he feels almost human again. That weekend they go to a movie and hang out at a bookstore and walk around a park and fuck kind of a lot. When he goes back to school on Monday none of his teachers notice or comment on the fact that he was out. He asks about makeup for a math quiz and the teacher waves a hand, says that he got a hundred percent. It’s pretty strange but Alex is not going to question it. The less algebra the better, is Alex’s perspective. 

He stays over at Asher’s more days than he doesn’t, that week. He shoots off a text once or twice to tell his parents not to wait up, but then stops bothering; they never seem to care much. They think Asher is wonderful. They trust him so much. 

The third week, Alex starts to have… cravings.

He’s a little hornier than usual on Sunday; he’s trembly like when he’s been edging for a week, even though he just came, and he can’t concentrate on the TV show they’re binging. He keeps thinking about Asher’s hands, Asher’s cock, Asher’s mouth, Asher’s teeth; he keeps finding his fingers touching his clit or fucking his cunt without his mind having given them permission. 

By Monday he can’t focus at all.

Well, that’s not quite the problem. He can focus fine. The problem is that he’s not focusing on Shakespeare or the Civil War or chemistry. He’s focusing exclusively on how good it had felt at the party two weeks ago, about the way the mouths felt on his thighs and his breasts and his neck and his shoulders and his clit, about how beautiful all the men there were, about how much he wants all of them to touch him and kiss him and fill him up and bite him, about how good he’d felt the whole time, better than he’d ever felt before, and how much he wants to feel that good again.

His clit is throbbing. He’s desperate. His underwear is soaked through. He’s so conscious of how empty his cunt and his mouth are. He needs any sort of stimulation at all: he squirms in his seat, moves his pen rhythmically in and out of his mouth, presses his heel into his clit and shifts back and forth, puts his hand casually on his thigh and rocks against it. It’s probably pretty obvious. He can’t bring himself to care.

Between classes he sneaks into the bathroom and undoes his pants and closes his eyes and presses his head into the bathroom stall and moves his fingers around his clit in quick circles. It’s not even really pleasurable, it’s just _ relief_. It can’t drive the craving away but it can make it die down for a second and he needs that second so very very much. He thinks about vampires, sharp fangs breaking his skin and blood and being fed on, teeth and blood and being drained until death, and he whimpers and doesn’t care about who hears him and keeps going and usually manages to only be a few minutes late to class.

(He doesn’t remember liking vampires this much before. But it’s normal to find new kinks when you’re a teenager, probably.)

During class, he is acutely aware that under every one of his male classmates’ clothes is a dick, and that some of them could even be hard, and it would be so easy to reach over and put his hand inside their pants and start jerking them off. He can’t stop thinking about taking literally any of them by the hand and pulling them into the bathroom and getting fucked up against the wall. He thinks about a line forming, guy after guy after guy taking him until he’s sore and he can’t think at all and he stops _ wanting_.

But he shouldn’t fuck his classmates. Asher’s not here. It’s not safe. He could get pregnant or catch something or get found by a teacher, and the latter is much less likely to result in threesomes than is depicted either in porn or in Alex’s fevered imagination. The only thing that can break through the haze of his lust is the prospect of pregnancy: the idea of his body being taken over by someone else, of his belly swelling and his tits growing, of people looking at him and seeing _ female_. 

He waits impatiently all day for the afternoons. As soon as they get back to Asher’s house, Asher pushes him up against the wall and bites his arm or his neck or his chest, and he’s so worked up he comes just from that, and it’s almost satisfying. Afterward he can think about something other than how much he needs. It’s just a shadow of how good it felt to get fucked at the party, it’s not enough, it’s like having a small snack when you need a six-course meal, but it least it takes the edge off his hunger. It also gives him a very vivid reminder of how good the party was.

By Saturday, he’s a mess; he spends all day with a vibrator on his clit and it doesn’t do anything, he can’t stop _ wanting_, but he doesn’t have the willpower to stop either. They get to the warehouse the second it opens. Alex strips off his clothes right away.

“You’re getting naked fast,” Asher says. 

“Last time I lost them,” he says. “If I stash them in a corner now I’ll know where they are before I get-- distracted.” 

“Reasonable,” Asher says.

Speaking of distracted, that man looks gorgeous, and the way his teeth glint in the light makes Alex wet. Alex smiles up at him and the man pushes him into the wall and-- _ oh _\-- Alex gets everything he wants. 

\--

“I’m getting worried,” Alex says into Asher’s shoulder.

“About what?” Asher asks.

“The week leading up to parties,” Alex says, “I want to go to a party _ so badly_.” Even right now thinking about the party makes his clit throb, makes him wonder if Asher is about ready for round three. 

“That’s fine,” Asher says, “they’re fun. Everyone wants to do fun things.”

“I mean.” Alex pauses. He tries to put his thoughts together. It’s hard, keeping track of a line of thought is difficult for him even when the word ‘hard’ doesn’t make him think about the press of a dick into his-- _ focus_. “I want it so badly I can’t concentrate in class. It’s hard to do anything except think about how much I want it. It’s kind of worrying. I’m not sure I’d be able to skip a party if I decided it was a good idea.”

Asher laughs, plays with Alex’s hair. “I’m not sure that’s a problem unless you think it's a good idea,” and his tone shows how ridiculous an idea that is.

Alex takes a deep breath and spits it out. “I’m scared I’m an alcoholic.”

Asher shakes his head. “Why would you think that?”

“The only time I drink is at parties,” Alex says, “and-- and I want to go to parties _ so much_. It doesn’t feel like wanting to do something fun. It feels like… an addiction. I’m scared.”

Asher shrugs. “I have some whiskey in the pantry.”

“What?” Alex says.

“You think you’re craving alcohol, right?” Asher says. “Well, if that’s true, if you get drunk now, you’ll stop craving it.”

There’s a pit in Alex’s stomach. “Not sure it’s a good idea to give booze to an alcoholic.”

“It’s just a test,” Asher says soothingly. “If you’re an alcoholic, we won’t ever go to a party again. I’ll help you find a rehab. You’ll get sober. It’ll all be okay.”

“You’re so good,” Alex says. He’s smiling big. “You take such good care of me.”

“No matter what happens,” Asher promises. “I’ll always take care of you.”

Asher leaves and returns with a bottle and pours out a little into a glass. It’s not very much, only a few ounces, but Alex guesses that it’s just a test and there’s no point in getting really drunk. “Try this.”

Alex drinks it down in a single gulp. It burns on the way down his throat, but it fills his body with warmth. It’ll probably take a while for it to kick in for real, he thinks, but fortunately he has this Asher right here, and he can press up against him-- ooh-- and touch his beautiful broad chest and his shoulders and his thighs and-- 

“How do you feel?” Asher asks, a few minutes later. 

“Amazing,” Alex says, grinding on Asher’s thigh, “you always make me feel amazing--”

Asher moves his thigh away. Alex makes a protesting noise. “I mean your craving for alcohol.”

“Oh. Right.” Alex sits up and tries to think.

He’s calmed down a lot; he’s not nearly as anxious as he was when he asked the question. He feels peaceful and happy and a little bit giggly. Being worried about being an alcoholic seems faintly ridiculous. Honestly, being worried about anything seems faintly ridiculous. There’s this glow suffusing him all the way down to his toes. 

Probably it’s at least a little bit the alcohol, although he can’t be that drunk, there was barely anything in that glass. Cuddling Asher always calms him down, that’s probably a lot of it. And testing out whether he’s an alcoholic. He’s heard about therapists recommending that. When you think your friends hate you or you’re stupid or, well, an alcoholic, you test it, and it turns out to be wrong, and then you stop worrying about it. 

The craving is… there. When he thinks about it he’s aware that Asher has a dick and can fuck him with it, that he’s so wet and so empty and so desperate, that the thought of Asher’s mouth on his clit is the best thing in the world. But the alcohol has relaxed him. He can think around the desire. If he were sober, he wouldn’t have been able to stop kissing Asher to think about this; they wouldn’t have stopped until Alex came.

“...complicated,” Alex says. “I mean, when I think about getting fucked I want it so so badly. But it seems less… urgent.”

“Your cravings are to get fucked?” Asher asks. 

“Sex in general,” Alex says. “I can’t get through an entire thought without thinking about sex. I think of a guy and then it occurs to me that I could have sex with him, or someone says the word ‘come’ and then I’m thinking about coming--”

“Hot.”

“It’s serious!” Alex protests. “You know how hard it is to concentrate in class?”

“I’m afraid,” Asher says, his face pressed into Alex’s knee, “you’ve come down with a case of being a horny teenage boy.”

For some reason this is the funniest thing Alex has ever heard and he breaks into a peal of giggles. 

“You should have seen me when I was sixteen,” Asher says. “Kept getting distracted in calculus class because the curves reminded me of tits.”

Alex makes a face, and then that’s funny too, and he starts laughing again. 

“You’re so gay,” Asher says. 

“I really am,” Alex says. “But I mean… I do keep thinking about fucked when I’m so drunk I’m about to pass out…”

“Do you think that’s a problem?” Asher asks, putting his hand on Alex’s knee.

“I don’t know,” Alex says. Asher’s hand is making the craving much more difficult to ignore. “I guess… I kinked on being helpless even before…” He trails off, not sure what it was before. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s so warm.

“So you fulfilled one of your deepest fantasies,” Asher says, “and you keep thinking about doing it again. A mystery.”

Alex can’t control his giggles. “Shut up.”

Asher draws circles on the skin of Alex’s leg. “You might as well say you’re addicted to sucking cock, or getting bitten…”

Alex sighs. “Sometimes I wonder.” 

“Sex addiction’s not real,” Asher says, tracing his fingers slowly up Alex’s thigh. “Scientific consensus.” 

“It’s very distracting when you do that,” Alex says. 

“I’m helping you pay attention,” Asher says. He starts to touch Alex’s clit. “I bet if they did this in class you wouldn’t zone out.”

“If they did this in class-- fuck-- I’d love school.” 

“Now listen,” Asher says, kissing his neck, “this’ll be on the test.” 

Alex expresses how much attention he’s paying with a groan. 

“Sex addiction,” he says into Alex’s ear, alternating his words with nibbles of Alex’s earlobe, “is just a name we apply to sexual behavior we don’t like. Don’t like masturbation? Sex addict. Don’t like gay dudes? Sex addict. Don’t like anonymous sex, or group sex, or sex with lots of different people, or kinky people, or people who fuck without condoms? Sex addict, sex addict, sex addict, sex addict, sex addict. Anyone who doesn’t do missionary-position het with the lights off once a week? Sex addict.”

“Mm, but it’s not--” Alex bites his lip, tries to focus. “I can’t _ stop_.”

“We don’t call people charity addicts if they can’t stop giving money away,” Asher says, “or parenting addicts if they can’t stop playing with their kids, or love addicts if they can’t stop spending time with their boyfriend. Because we think all those things are good things.” Maybe there should be a finger inside Alex’s cunt. “But sex_ is _ a good thing. Best thing in the world.”

“Is this an object lesson?” Alex asks breathily.

“Yes,” Asher says. “Look, even people who believe in sex addiction say that it’s when you fuck a lot in spite of the negative consequences on the rest of your life.” Asher’s being a tease, not going fast enough to get Alex off, just quickly enough to keep him wanting. “And what are the consequences of you getting fucked at parties?”

Alex squirms. “I get to come,” he says, “I feel amazing, I get to be a hot slutty little fuck toy-- god-- the guys I’m with love it-- christ-- I really think this is-- ohfuckohfuckohfuck-- changing which consequences I think of--”

Asher, who is a terrible person, stills his fingers inside Alex. “Can you think more clearly now?”

Alex tries to fuck himself on Asher’s fingers, realizes that if he keeps doing this Asher will hold him down to keep him still and it will be even more distracting, and with a heroic effort manages to think about something else. “I sleep a lot through class afterward, I guess,” Alex says. “And I’m not paying a ton of attention while I’m fantasizing about dick, either.”

“But your grades are great,” Asher points out. 

“That’s really kind of weird,” Alex says. “Since I don’t, like, study or do my homework and it keeps turning out I got 100% on tests I don’t remember taking.”

“That’s just your memory problems,” Asher says. “You do homework all the time with me.”

Alex doesn’t really remember this but he does have trouble remembering things. It’s not like it’s a problem. Who wants to remember doing homework? If he can only remember half of his relationship with Asher he’d much rather remember the half where he’s getting thrown against the wall and-- _ focus_, he has to focus, or they’ll never finish the conversation. 

“I guess I could be doing art more,” Alex says. “But I don’t think that… the fact that fucking my boyfriend takes time and so I don’t draw as much as I did when I was single… counts as a negative consequence really.” He sighs. “It’s so good. It’s just. I can’t stop.”

“Sure you can,” Asher says. He starts to fuck Alex’s cunt with his fingers hard and fast, just how Alex likes it, and Alex closes his eyes and bites his lip and forgets entirely what he was talking about. 

Asher doesn’t, though. “You can tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Try it.”

“But I don’t want to,” Alex protests.

“Just like you don’t want to skip parties? Or stay sober and clothed and unfucked at them?”

There’s a problem with this logic, Alex thinks, but he’s so relaxed and so horny and it’s so hard to remember why he was worried about anything and it would be so easy to let Asher take him, and whenever he tries to think what the problem is it just slips away.

“Try it,” Asher says. “As a test.”

“Stop fucking me,” Alex says, with extreme reluctance.

Asher pulls his finger out of Alex’s cunt. “See?” he says. “You can stop. You just don’t want to.”

Something still feels a little off about that but it’s still hard to think through exactly what it is. Asher’s so beautiful. His shoulders are powerful, and his chest is broad, and his waist is lean, and Alex wants to run his fingers down Asher’s body and follow them with his mouth. But he won’t-- not right now-- because he can control himself. He’s in charge of all his actions. No one is making him do anything. It’s unbearably frustrating and makes him squirm not to, but he comforts himself with the thought that in a few minutes he’ll prove he has free will and then he can crawl on top of Asher and touch every inch of his skin and it’ll be his choice, just because Asher is beautiful and touching him makes Alex wet and he wants to so much he can’t think straight. Not being able to resist touching Asher for more than a few minutes isn’t an addiction, it’s the human condition.

“So I’m like this because I’m a teenage boy?” Alex asks.

“You’re like this because sex is fun,” Asher says, still not touching him. “And because you’re absolutely fucking insatiable, and I love that about you.”

“You do?” The glow Alex was feeling intensifies.

“People who love sex are hot,” Asher says. “And… you’re always so shameless, and you take what you want no matter what… I admire that, actually.”

Alex blushes at the praise.

“You’re so cute.”

And then Alex feels a little embarrassed, about having been so ashamed of his sexuality that he thought he was a sex addict. What if Asher doesn’t admire him (admire him!) anymore? “I mean, I was worried, before-- that’s not very--”

Asher kisses him. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I want you to talk to me when you’re worried. Having a little anxiety isn’t going to make me look up to you any less. You’re still the guy who took four dicks at once.”

Asher is so good! And Alex wants so badly to be someone Asher admires. And he will be. Now he knows those thoughts are silly, and next time he has them he’ll put them right out of mind and not worry about them even a little bit, and Asher will be so proud of him and keep saying such lovely things except maybe next time with Asher’s dick inside one of his holes, which is precisely how you improve compliments. 

Asher reaches out to touch Alex’s clit, feather-light, not really trying to get him off, just affectionate the way he might scratch Alex’s head. “The guys who think your worries are right are the same ones who think you shouldn’t date a guy six years older than you, or skip class to blow me on the beach, or fuck strangers without condoms…”

“So prudes who hate sex.”

“Yep,” Asher says, “no one you should listen to.”

“Probably homophobes,” Alex says, “and transphobes… god, keep doing that...”

“As much as I like you being my shameless slut,” Asher says, “you should maybe be my shameless slut less often in class.”

This is also the funniest thing in the world, and Alex can’t stop laughing. Laughing while getting your clit fingered makes Asher’s fingers move funny and get out of rhythm, which is also hilarious, so this goes on for a while. 

Eventually he manages to settle down enough to say, “booze does make it better.”

“Of course it does,” Asher says. “Alcohol is a depressant. It chills out your nervous system. Same thing as benzos, they just make you care about things less.”

“It feels a little weird to go ‘maybe I should drink before class’--” Alex says.

“Why not?” Asher says.

“It’s a kind of alcoholic thing to do,” Alex says, “day-drinking.” This is an increasingly difficult topic to focus on.

“Fair,” Asher says. “But if it’s to help with school, it’s practically responsible. I can’t think of any alcoholics who drink to focus on their schoolwork.”

And that sends Alex off into another gale of laughter. “Why are you so funny today?”

“Natural charm,” Asher says. He locks eyes with Alex. His eyes are so big and so brown and so deep and Alex is falling into them. “Do you want me to help you remember what we talked about?”

“...yes,” Alex says. It feels like his voice is coming from far away.

“You’re a slut,” Asher says, “and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. When you crave sex, it’s because sex is fun. You shouldn’t worry about craving sex or about not being able to think about anything but sex. You should relax. You should do what feels good. You can drink to help you focus at school, or when you want to, as long as it makes you happy and feels good. Don’t drink if it makes you feel gross or sick. As long as you do that, you can drink as much as you want and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Shouldn’t worry,” Alex says vaguely. He’s drifting away. He can’t feel any of his limbs. “Makes me… happy. So happy. Slut.”

“My beautiful precious slut.”

“Yours,” Alex says. His eyes flutter closed and-- he’s not moving his hands, he can’t move his hands-- but his hands are moving of their own accord and the way they touch him is perfect.

“Let’s finish what we started,” Asher says, and Alex can’t think of a better idea.

\--

Asher is busy doing some math thing Alex is too dumb to understand, so he left Lev and Alex to entertain themselves, which means having sex. (Alex is a dumb slut. Of course it means having sex.) Alex is so lucky that Asher isn’t jealous at all, that he doesn’t mind when his Lev and his Alex have some fun with each other. 

(He wonders, sometimes, when they started dating. It couldn’t be that one day Alex and Asher were just dating each other, and the next day Lev was there and loves Alex so much-- but it does feel that way.)

Having sex with Lev is-- weird. Alex doesn’t want to say that the sex with Lev is bad. The sex with Lev is great. Alex comes a lot. But he comes once, and then recovers a bit, and then comes again. It never feels like he’s floating or flying; he can always think through it; afterwards, he never wants to pass out. When he’s craving sex, Asher can fix it; Lev can only distract him from it for a while, and afterward the craving comes back worse than ever. 

When Lev bites him, it feels like teeth on skin. 

But he loves Lev, loves touching him, and sex is still fun to do while Asher’s busy with something else, and that’s why Alex is lying on a bed with Lev’s mouth between his legs shuddering through his third orgasm. (Lev loves him, loves making him feel good, would happily spend all afternoon between his legs, has done it in the past. Alex loves him, and feels a little bad about how it’s not the _ same_.)

He pulls Lev up and kisses him. “We could fuck if you wanted to.”

“We are fucking.”

“You know what I mean,” Alex says. “Your dick inside me. You know. If you want to.”

Lev puts a hand in his hair and pulls; Alex hisses. “Do you have a condom?”

Alex makes a face. “I hate condoms.”

“Okay yeah,” Lev says, “but you know. Babies? I don’t want to have kids yet.”

“It’s fine,” Alex says, with conviction. “I’m totally safe. Asher’s right there.”

Lev is making a skeptical face. 

“Condoms are such a pain,” Alex says. He reaches down between his legs, makes his hand wet, wraps his hand around Lev’s dick, and starts jerking him off. “Do you really want to stop and put on clothes and find money and go to the store and get some and then start all over, when I’m right here beside you, so wet and so ready--”

“No,” Lev says, “but--” 

“We’d have to do it every time,” Alex says, pressing up against Lev’s body, whispering into his ear, “get so close that we just want to slip it in but instead we’d have to stop and put one on--”

“Oh,” Lev says, “oh, that’s not _ fair_, you know that’s not fair-- oh _ god_\--”

“Sex without a condom is so intimate,” Alex says. “There’s no latex in the way. Just your skin against my skin, together, as close as we can be. You could feel”-- he punctuates each word with a jerk of Lev’s cock-- “just. how. wet. I. am.”

Lev whimpers and says, “But-- you could get pregnant-- you could get--”

“Honestly, that’s why Asher and I don’t use them,” Alex says. “Who wants to think about getting pregnant while they’re having sex? I don’t. The last thing I need when I’m horny is a little plastic reminder of screaming infants and gonorrhea. It totally kills the mood. I remember, Asher and I talked about it and decided I’d have so much more fun without it.” 

This is not strictly speaking true. Alex doesn’t remember any of this. But Alex knows he hates condoms and why, and he knows Asher was the first person he ever had PIV with, so he must have used them with Asher. And they would have used them at first, anyway. Asher is responsible. He wouldn’t have had condomless sex with Alex until Alex knew he could trust him, even though it’s totally safe. So it’s a reasonable extrapolation. 

“And Asher’s safe anyway,” Alex concludes, jerking Lev off a bit faster, “so it’s fine.”

“But I’m not safe anyway,” Lev says. “I’m really not-- oh god keep doing that-- it feels so _ nice_\--”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Alex says. 

“Oh, I want to,” Lev says, “I really want to, I just--” Whatever Lev just was lost to posterity in a moan.

“I don’t use condoms with any of the guys at Asher’s parties,” Alex says. He lets go of Lev’s dick, pulls Lev on top of him. “It’s fine. I’m totally safe. I won’t get sick or pregnant or anything. Nothing’s going to happen.”

(He hopes Lev won’t ask about the details of why he’s safe. It’s not-- obviously he’s safe, Asher wouldn’t let him if he wasn’t safe, as long as Asher’s there he can’t get pregnant or have STDs, as long as Asher’s there nothing can go wrong-- the problem isn’t the precautions he’s talking, it’s his shitty memory. But Lev might not see it that way.)

“But it’s important that you’re comfortable,” Alex says, “we won’t do anything you don’t want.” 

Lev rubs his dick between Alex’s legs. Dry-humping, Alex guesses, although he’s not sure why they call it dry-humping when it’s so wet. “Wanting’s not the problem,” Lev says, kissing Alex. “It’s just-- we should be safe--”

“It’s so safe,” Alex says. “As safe as not having PIV at all. Me getting pregnant would be like-- winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning. On the same day. Twice. And it feels_ so good_.”

Lev’s mouth returns to Alex’s shoulder; he bites, and Alex’s thoughts about getting pregnant are lost to pain and arousal, and good thing too, it sucks to worry about it, that’s why he doesn’t use condoms in the first place-- Lev’s teeth dig in deeper-- that’s so good-- God, he kinks on being bitten.

The very tip of Lev’s dick starts to probe the entrance of Alex’s vagina. The first time could be accidental. The seventh is not, especially once he gives up all pretense of rubbing against Alex’s clit and just stays posed at the entrance. Alex doesn’t say anything, just reaches between Lev’s legs and jerks him off, puts his other hand in Lev’s hair.

“I want to feel you,” Lev says. “Just once. And then we can stop this and go get condoms.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Lev pushes inside, stills, makes a hissing sound.

“You’re so warm,” he says, “so warm and wet and soft and-- I can feel how much you want me--” His hips make little stuttering movements he can’t quite control.

“Yeah,” Alex says, “I love you, I want you so much,” and he wraps his legs around Lev’s back and pulls him close and kisses him and it’s a little bit of a tease, how little Lev is moving, but Alex likes being teased.

Lev breaks the kiss.“I should stop, get condoms,” Lev says, half-pulls-out, groans, sinks back in. “It’s just-- you said it wouldn’t feel this good with--”

Alex smiles up at him. “Not half as good.”

“It just,” Lev says, “oh god, it just feels so good whenever I move-- fuck-- and I have to move-- to take it out-- uuungh--- maybe if I stay still I’ll-- calm down-- and then I’ll have-- the willpower-- oh god that’s so _ nice_\-- Alex, Alex, I love you.” Lev’s hips do not seem to be getting the memo that he is supposed to be staying still. 

“Here,” Alex says, and holds Lev close with his legs, and kisses him. “You wanted to stay still.”

“You’re so good,” Lev says. 

No one ever said that Alex had to play fair. He kisses Lev’s neck, the part that’s so sensitive, licks one of his healed-up cuts, and is rewarded with a shudder. Then he smiles up at Lev and squeezes tightly around him. 

Lev gasps and says, “we shouldn’t-- I need to-- don’t-- I like that too much--”

“Are you going to come from this?” Alex asks. “If you stay still inside me.”

“No,” Lev says.

Alex puts a hand on his cheek and kisses him. “Then you’re going to calm down eventually no matter what,” he says reasonably. “We can just take the scenic route, full of so many”-- he reaches down to cup Lev’s balls-- “pleasant stops…”

“Oh,” Lev says into Alex’s mouth. “The scenic route. That-- ooh-- that makes sense.” 

“And since you’re not going to come no matter what,” Alex says, running his other hand through Lev’s hair, “you don’t have to worry about it, right? You can just relax. Have fun.”

“Mmmyeah,” Lev says. “That’s. Yeah.”

Alex smiles into his mouth, keeps squeezing and letting go, keeps stroking the velvety skin of his balls, kisses Lev’s cheek and his jawline and his cuts. Lev makes such happy little noises. All the tension has dropped out of his face. He’s clearly not thinking anymore, just feeling, just giving way to sensation. Alex likes it. Lev really needed this. He worries way too much. It’s good for him to get to just rest inside Alex and enjoy being touched. 

“I want to come with your dick inside me,” he says, “feeling you, it would be so hot-- can I-- it’s not anything different than we’re doing anyway-- I want to come feeling your skin on my skin--”

“Yeah,” Lev breathes, pushes himself up onto his arms so Alex can touch his clit. The two little thrusts were not really necessary to this process, but Alex isn’t going to complain.

Alex puts on a little bit of a show, clenches up his face and makes little tiny moans like they’re escaping his mouth without him meaning to, and keeps up the Kegels. He’s rewarded with Lev’s soft noises and fast breathing and the sure sense that this isn’t calming Lev down at all. 

Alex gets himself close once, twice, three times, savors the sensation, takes his time, draws it out, doesn’t let himself go over. Lev doesn’t say anything, but the way he watches every little detail of Alex’s face says everything. 

“It would make me so happy,” Alex says, “if you could fuck me while I come-- just while I come-- and then we can stop-- I’m so close, it won’t be long at all-- you’d hit all the sensitive spots-- it’d be so good because it’s your dick and not latex-- please-- just once so I know what it’s like with you--”

“I should stay still,” Lev says. He sounds a bit conflicted. 

“You don’t have to,” Alex says. “If you’re not comfortable. It’s just”-- he lets a whimper escape-- “I want your dick so much--”

“This is different.” Lev sounds like he’s convincing himself. “It’s fucking but it’s not like it’s really fucking. It’s just. Another stop on the scenic route.”

“Yeah,” Alex says. He drops his legs to the bed. “It’s fooling around a little. Exploring. Not the same thing at all.”

“You stopped me before,” Lev says, “I can trust you.”

“I’ll stop you as soon as you want me to, I promise,” Alex says. “Nothing bad will happen. It’ll just make it take a little bit longer for you to calm down, that’s all. I don’t mind that. This is fun, I like having your dick inside me.”

“Being inside you is so nice,” Lev says, his hips rocking a little. “And I don’t want to calm down too fast-- before I’m ready-- and then I’ll have to stop being inside you before I’m really done-- that sounds awful-- so I’ll get just a little hornier-- and then it’ll take as long as I want-- even if I do calm down too fast I can always do it again--”

Squeeze. “That sounds great,” Alex says honestly.

"Wanna be inside you for hours and hours-- really-- _mmmmm_\-- experience all of it-- and it's safe as long as it's just, ung, detours. And not really fucking."

“Just a detour," Alex says, "to see what it’s like to feel me coming around your cock for real, nothing in the way.”

“Yeah-- so good-- wanna know that-- as long as it’s safe-- and I don’t come-- it’ll be fine--” 

“It’s so safe,” Alex says, moving his hips, “and it’s just-- one orgasm-- maybe two-- only if you want-- bet I’d come right away, your dick is so good-- nothing to worry about-- I need you so much-- please--”

“It’ll be fast,” Lev says, “I won’t get carried away-- and it’d be so hot--” 

And Lev starts moving for real this time, slowly and gingerly and with a great deal of care.

“Harder,” Alex says, rubbing his clit, “please, harder-- don’t tease me--”

“But that’ll be-- oh god-- too much--”

“If you tease me it'll take me longer to come," Alex says, "so it's actually less safe-- and don't you want to feel amazing-- just for a few seconds-- just to see what it's like-- _please_\--"

And Lev pulls almost all the way out and then pushes in again and again, deep and fast, and Alex gasps and shudders and comes and Lev keeps fucking him through it and then through the aftershocks and through any plausible deniability that he’s just fucking him through the aftershocks.

Alex isn’t going to say anything about it, is just going to kiss him and stroke his hair and let what happens happen, but Lev says, “Maybe two? Or-- uuuungh-- three?”

“As many as you want,” Alex says, and smiles up at him with hearts in his eyes, and takes his hand from his clit and cups Lev’s cheek. 

“You’re not--” Lev says, and then seems to forget entirely what he was saying.

Alex thinks he can figure it out. “I want to come from just your dick.”

Lev seems to think this is good enough, or at least is too horny to question it. He tosses his head back and bites his lip. It’s nice, usually by this point in sex Alex’s too far gone to see anything about the reaction other people are having, but he can see Lev’s half-lidded eyes and the way the skin of his lip gets white when he bites it, hear his little moans and whimpers, and it’s really fucking hot.

Alex traces lines down Lev’s back, kisses his neck and his jawline and his forehead, feels the pleasure pool in his thighs and his stomach and his cunt, feels Lev move faster and faster. “I love you,” he says, “I love you so much, you’re so beautiful.”

“I love you too,” Lev says, “I don’t want to stop-- you feel so good--”

“It makes me so happy,” Alex says, not playing fair at all, “to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” he says, “Alex-- oh-- I like that-- I love you-- we’re _ so close_\-- as close as we can ever be-- I’m so close--” His whimpers are getting more desperate.

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

“I need to come,” Lev says, and his voice keeps breaking into groans in the middle of words, “I need to come so badly but I don’t want to stooooo_ooooohgodpleaseyes_. Stop.”

Alex cups his cheek, kisses him. “You don’t have to.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Lev says.

“Yeah,” Alex says, a little breathily. “So safe. Like getting struck by lightning.”

And suddenly Lev is fucking him harder, pinning his wrists to the bedspread and moaning and staring deeply into his eyes, and then he gasps and finishes and he looks so perfectly sublimely happy. 

Lev smiles at him afterwards, a little stupidly, absolutely lovestruck. Alex thinks it might be the way he himself looks after sex; it’s definitely the way he feels. Alex wants to do anything that makes Lev feel like that.

“Nice?” he says.

“Absolutely perfect,” Lev says, “I love you so much. --Next time we should really use condoms though.”

Alex kisses him. “We can if you want to.”

“Although,” Lev says thoughtfully.

“What?”

“I know you’re safe,” Lev says, “but if you weren’t safe-- if you think about it, I already came in you, the damage is done.”

“Mm,” Alex says. He likes where this seems to be heading.

“And I want to feel what it’s like to fuck you without a condom and without-- having to worry about it, or trying to stop myself. Knowing that I can come inside you--”

“That does sound nicer,” Alex says, and reaches curiously between Lev’s legs. Yep, he’s hard again. 

“And any other time would be riskier than right now,” Lev says, “if I don’t do it now I won’t ever get to. And if I don't know I'll always wonder and I might get tempted, so if you think about it-- ohhhhhhhh Christ.”

Alex, seeing where this logic was going, had gotten on top of Lev and pushed his dick inside him. 

"I wasn't done convincing myself," Lev says crossly. But Alex kisses the frown off his face and moves back and forth and everything is forgiven.

\--

“I guess I should have predicted this,” Asher says.

Alex is on top of Lev, Lev’s mouth on his chest. “Predicted what?”

“That you and Lev would have PIV,” Asher says. 

Alex thinks this is a fair point. He is pretty slutty. Of course Lev’s dick would wind up in his cunt eventually. Most of the dicks he encountered did. He is not sure, however, why Asher is bringing this up. 

Asher seems to want to talk and not get his dick sucked, so Alex decides to wrap this up. He says, “I love you so much-- wanna feel you come inside me-- _ please_\-- love you love you love you”, puts his mouth directly on top of Lev’s newest cut, bites down hard, moans loudly, and moves his hips as quickly as he can. Lev hisses and finishes in a gratifyingly short amount of time.

Alex rolls off. “What did you want to talk about?”

Asher gets on the other side of him, so Alex is snuggled in between his boyfriends. The best possible position. “Hypothetically,” Asher says, “if you weren’t safe, what birth control would you want to use?”

Alex makes a face. “That sounds terrible. I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about it.”

“But if you did,” Asher says, “what would you use? Hypothetically.”

Alex rests his head on Asher’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Obviously I’d want to get fucked at all.”

“Of course,” Asher says.

“And I hate condoms so much,” Alex says, “they’re like taking a shower in a raincoat.”

“I think that’s the other way around,” Lev says. “My dick would be the one that’s wrapped in plastic. You’d be like… the shower that’s falling on someone wearing a raincoat.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alex says. “You can’t feel anything and it ruins the mood.” He makes a face. “I don’t want to have to think about babies while I’m having sex.”

“Reasonable,” Asher says. 

“And I definitely wouldn’t want them to pull out. Having a guy come inside me makes me feel so _ hot_. And making guys pull out just seems kind of mean, you know? I got to enjoy their dick. I didn’t have to stop just before the best part.” He grimaces. “Plus I’d definitely forget when I was drunk.”

“What about the pill?” 

“The pill sucks too,” Alex says. “Like, I don’t know yet if I want to take testosterone, but the last thing I want is to voluntarily put estrogen into my own body. I read that it makes a bunch of guys really dysphoric until they go off it. And it makes you depressed and tanks your sex drive.” He makes an unhappy face.

“Doesn’t seem like a good option,” Asher says, stroking his hair.

“I guess I’d just have to get a hysterectomy sooner than I thought,” Alex says.

“You can’t have sex for six weeks after a hysterectomy,” Lev says.

“Ugh,” Alex says. “I don’t want to not get laid for six weeks though. I’d be _ nuts _ from horniness by the end.”

“IUD?” Asher asks. 

“I heard having those put in really hurts,” Alex says. He grimaces. “I don’t want any painful things in my cunt. I’m not that much of a masochist.” He sighs. “I guess if I had to I would. Maybe I’d just only fuck guys who’d had vasectomies.”

“I don’t want a vasectomy,” Lev says. “I want kids someday.”

“All birth control is terrible,” Alex says. He kisses Asher. “It’s a good thing I’m so safe. I can let Lev come in me again-- and again-- and again-- and nothing will go wrong-- you’ll take care of me-- of both of us--”

“Always,” Asher says, but he looks troubled. 

“It’s so much better this way,” Alex says. “I’m so lucky. I don’t have to deal with any of it.” 

Lev lifts his head up from Alex’s chest. “If you’re not on anything, then why is it safe?”

“I forget.” Alex kisses Lev. “But it is. We can trust Asher. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen.” 

“I do trust Asher,” Lev says, “but he’s right there, he can explain.”

This conversation is terrible and stressful. Asher still has a worried look on his face, and Lev is starting to have one too. Alex wants this entire conversation to be over, and he has two boyfriends right here with two beautiful dicks neither of which is inside him, and it seems like they both should be fixing that problem instead of discussing pointless hypotheticals.

“It’s boring,” Alex says, kissing Lev in between his phrases and reaching down to palm his dick, “let’s not worry about it, I’m safe, that’s what matters, why don’t we do something fun instead, Asher’s here, he can fuck you, while you fuck me, doesn’t that sound better--”

“Not if I might get you pregnant!” Lev protests.

“Alex’s right,” Asher says decisively. “We shouldn’t worry about it right now.”

“I’m not _ worried_, I just--”

Asher bends over, kisses Lev’s forehead, and looks into his eyes. “Don’t worry about Alex getting pregnant,” he says. “Everything will be fine. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about that.”

Lev’s entire body relaxes and he gazes up at Asher with a soft, welcoming smile. There’s no tension anywhere in his body except his dick, which is starting to get hard. Alex feels soft and affectionate. It’s so nice to see how Asher can help Lev calm down. 

“You’re right,” he says vaguely. “I don’t have to worry about that.” 

“I need a drink,” Alex says. This conversation was hellish and terrible, and Alex needs more than a kiss on the forehead and a look in the eyes to recover. He needs chemical assistance. “Something sweet.”

Lev’s eyes flutter shut and he breathes very slowly. You might almost think he was sleeping. But Alex knows how sensitive Lev is when he’s relaxed like this, when every touch sends him flying, and that’s enough to make him forget all about that terrible conversation.

“--Maybe sex first.”

\--

Alex is glad when his period disappears. It’s not like he’s having any sex that can make a baby, anyway, and his period would be an enormous pain even if he weren’t dysphoric about it, so he’s glad he’s getting a couple months off. 

Then he gets the flu and it doesn’t go away. He’s tired all the time, way more than usual. He’s throwing up constantly. He feels nauseous. He gets intense food cravings, eats two bites, and throws the rest of the meal out. His parents hover, sympathetic. Asher stares in his eyes and it makes him feel better and he can at least choke something down.

After the third week of this-- he knows it’s stupid, he’s not the Unusually Slutty Virgin Mary, he’s not having any sex where he can have babies-- he goes to the store and buys a pregnancy test and pees on the stick and waits. Stares at it. Buys three more pregnancy tests, waits. Stares at them. Tries not to cry. Texts Asher.

_ I’m pregnant_, he says. _ I don’t know how, I don’t know what happened, I’m so scared, maybe someone raped me while I was passed out at a party and you weren’t watching, I don’t know, I want it _out.

_ Be right there_, Asher says, and when Asher arrives he’s so relieved that he doesn’t even ask about how Asher knew which drug store bathroom he was in.

Alex looks into his eyes because everything has gone wrong and he didn’t know what happened and he’s pregnant and it’s the worst thing he could imagine and he needs some comfort, even that little comfort, as stupid as it is to be comforted by Asher’s eyes, and he hears Asher’s voice saying, “you’re not going to drop right now”-- Alex doesn’t know what that means or how it’s relevant, he has a baby-- “You’re not pregnant.”

Oh, he thinks. That’s reassuring. He’s glad Asher’s here, Asher always makes him feel better when he’s freaked out about nothing. “Sorry I was stupid,” he says. “I guess I thought-- the pregnancy tests must have been wrong--”

“You’re going to forget you ever thought you were pregnant,” Asher says, and Alex is about to say something about how he’s not sure that that’s how memory works even for someone whose memory is as bad as his when Asher’s eyes take it all away. 

What’s going on?

Why is Asher holding him in a drug store bathroom?

Why does he feel so stressed out?

What are those pregnancy tests-- he blinks. He forgot what he was thinking about. Stupid terrible memory. 

“Okay,” Alex says, “what just happened?”

“Panic attack,” Asher says soothingly, “it’s normal to forget things after a panic attack, come on, let’s finish getting you some Gatorade,” and Alex smiles and holds his hand and doesn’t worry about a thing.

That night, Asher comes in through his window holding a dozen bottles of pills. “I picked up your medicine from the pharmacy.”

“What?” Alex says. “What medicine?”

Asher looks deep into his eyes. “Remember, you went to the doctor about your flu,” he says, “and the doctor said it was related to your period. And now you have this medicine, and whenever your period stops and you get the flu for two weeks, you need to take these two pills, and you’ll get a period that’s heavier and crampier, and then everything will be okay. You definitely shouldn’t take a pregnancy test because you can’t get pregnant. You should just take the pills and not worry about it. They’re treatment for your period trouble.”

Oh he-- does remember that now-- Asher made him go even though Alex doesn’t like doctors very much-- he’s so glad Asher is taking care of him. Asher is such a good boyfriend. Alex doesn’t have to worry about anything. Asher has it all under control. Alex is so safe.

Alex doesn’t remember much about that night. He has to take his pill every so often, after that. He’s glad the doctor gave him enough that he didn’t have to go back to see them every time, and that there’s an easy treatment for it. The periods after he takes his pill really suck, and Asher isn’t always there to distract him. He can only imagine how bad it’d be if he could get pregnant. 

He can’t remember his diagnosis or what pills he takes, but it doesn’t matter. He tries to look at the bottle once or twice, but his eyes won’t focus for some reason. The bottle’s just really hard to read. He doesn’t really care that much. He knew at some point, and the pills fix it right up, and the doctors know what pills he takes. It’s just his shitty memory. He should maybe go to the doctor for the memory, but he hates doctors, and if it was really bad Asher would take him like he did with his period thing, and anyway if it were really a worry he’d be concerned about it more than just once. 


End file.
